Holding My Last Breath
by banjkazfan
Summary: The good are always the first to fall as the outbreak of an unknown disease has Princeton Plainsboro in a panic, and help from an outside organization, called Caduceus USA, must be sought. Wilson may now be in the clear, but what lies ahead? On hiatus
1. Helpless

**((A/N: W**hee, first _House, M.D. _fanfiction! This is something I'm just sort of working with right now…it's a crossover with_ Trauma Centre: Under the Knife_, but in future chapters I will explain things, so hopefully no former knowledge of _Trauma Centre_ will be necessary.

I apologize if it's a little OOC, but any help would be greatly appreciated!

Thanks in advance!

BKF

* * *

**G**regory House ran a hand through his disheveled, greying hair and took a long, deep breath. His glacier-blue eyes were rimmed with red from the little amount of sleep he'd gotten in the past week or so; his mind had been so screwed up lately it could've been much longer and he never would've known.

Allison Cameron, coming down the hallway, carefully approached her boss. "…House," she said gently, "you should go home. They're trying to reach Caduceus…but for now, there's…nothing we can do but wait and pray."

"Keep your prayers to yourself," he grunted hoarsely in reply. His throat felt like coarse sandpaper from having exercised his voice so little and from barely moving, even to get a drink. "Waiting I can deal with."

Cameron sighed a little. "Look…I know you're worried, but—"

House sneered a bit. "What makes you think I'm worried?"

"—but killing yourself over this won't do anybody any good," Cameron finished, as if she hadn't been interrupted. "…especially him," she whispered, hoping that House wouldn't hear the last part. His fierce glare, however, told her that he had heard the afterthought.

"Go away," he said. Cameron did a double-take, as if she had heard him wrong.

"I'm sorry?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Go away, Cameron," House spat, "and take your 'suck-it-up' bullshit with you."

Cameron swallowed hard, but obliged. She walked down the hallway of Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital and met up with Robert Chase in the diagnostics room of Doctor House.

"Is he still there?" Chase inquired when Cameron entered the room.

"Hello to you too," she replied with a hint of annoyance in her voice, "and yes. He's barely moved from there for a week."

"What do you think's got him so riled up about this?" Chase asked.

Eric Foreman shrugged. "Probably just that he can't figure out what the hell it is. Being wrong's gotta be tearing the poor guy up." The sarcasm dripping from his voice irritated Cameron.

"Oh, I'm sure that's _just_ what it is," she fired back, her sarcasm matching Foreman's. "It probably doesn't have _anything_ to do with the fact that someone he really cares about is sick, and we don't know why, I'm _sure_ of it!"

Forman chuckled hollowly. "I can't imagine House caring about anyone enough to camp outside of their room for an entire _week. _It's gotta be not knowing what's tearing him apart that's killing House. House doesn't care about people, remember?"

* * *

Back down the hallway, House slowly rose and grimaced; the pain in his right leg was nearly unbearable from having sat for so long. He limped toward the door of the room he had been parked in front of, but a nurse blocked his way. 

"I'm sorry, Doctor House," she said quietly, putting her hand up in front of her to stop him. "You heard Doctor Cuddy's orders…nobody but authorized personnel are to enter."

House sighed deeply. "Yeah, I know." With that, he limped away from the nurse and placed his hand on the glass barrier that barricaded him from the patient inside, observing the scene within the four walls.

The patient was lying on the bed, asleep, as he had been for a week; House's eyes wandered over the numerous tubes attached to the man and he swallowed hard. Even the famous Gregory House himself had not been able to diagnose the man in the bed, and everyone feared the worst for the patient.

A gentle hand on House's shoulder caused him to jump a little and he turned to face Lisa Cuddy, the Dean of Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital. Her dark eyes were warm and calm as she spoke.

"House, I contacted Caduceus…they've sent the surgeon and his nurse and they should arrive by early tomorrow morning. They understand more about this than we do…apparently when the last outbreak hit, the East coast of the United States was pretty safe; they were able to get it under control before too many people died from it." She foolishly hoped that this news would cheer House up, even a little bit, but it had the opposite effect; his face darkened as he turned away from her and continued to watch the patient.

"And what makes them think that they'll get here fast enough?" he asked quietly.

Cuddy took a deep breath. "Well…when I described how far along he was, they said we may have caught it just in time…they told me that isolating him until they could get here was the only sure way to keep anyone else from getting ill…" She looked away from House and approached the glass.

"…to be…honest with you…I don't like having to keep him…away from everybody else like this…" she said falteringly, forcing herself to take a few more deep breaths before continuing and trying to prevent tears from falling. "…it almost makes me feel like…he's trapped in there…and we can't do anything to help him."

House didn't reply; he wouldn't even look at her.

"Caduceus tells me that these are their best, though, and that…we're putting him in good hands…" A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away, though she knew House had already seen.

"…but you're not sure," he finally spoke, "which explains the tears."

"…no, I'm not sure," Cuddy admitted. "I don't know what else to do, though, House…I'm just as worried about losing him as I know you are."

House gave her a long, withering look, and only then could Cuddy see just how run-down he really was. His already grey hair had gotten even greyer, his glacier-blue eyes had lost their gleam and were red-rimmed, and he looked like a very tired old man who had seen much more of the world than he would've cared to in a very short amount of time. The stark difference from his normal demeanor caught her off-guard and she looked away uncomfortably.

"…I'm going back up to my office," she said softly. "House…you should go home and rest." Her eyes met his momentarily, and he could see the worry in her soft, dark eyes. It had not been a question, but a statement.

Only long after Cuddy had left him standing alone in the hallway did House speak to himself, "I can't leave now." He placed his hand on the glass once again, watching the sleeping figure. He watched how the rapidly setting sun left a glow on the man's brown hair; the temporary glow almost allowed him to ignore the abundant tubes imprisoning the patient.

House sighed deeply, dropping his hand from the glass dejectedly. _…hang in there,_ he thought in regards to the patient, _help is coming soon._

He slowly limped back to his seat outside of the room and once more looked through the patient's chart, riddled with its confusing symptoms and the never-ending list of possible ailments that it could have been. House was, however, only concerned with two parts of the information.

_**Chiral reaction positive: Pempti bodies detected.**_

_**Patient: Dr. James Evan Wilson. **_

* * *

**((A/N: W**ell, that's one chapter down, now…this may or may not become part of a larger story later; for now it's separate.

Thanks for reading!

BKF ))


	2. Memory

**((A/N: W**ow! I'm really feeling honoured right now…I just posted this two nights ago—after writing it from midnight to 1 or 2 AM :S—and already it's gotten a few fav's and watches! Thank you guys so much!!

Thanks especially to Betz88 for her encouraging words, and thanks to Lynandreth for the first review that made me jump out of my seat in fear for my safety if I updated late :P (("HOW CAN YOU DO THIS? YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE OFF ON SUCH A HIGH CLIFF HANGER!))

So, without further ado, here is chapter two!

BKF ))

* * *

_**H**__ouse and Wilson walked down the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro together, discussing what could be ailing the patient in House's newest case._

"_The team's run through everything they think it could be," House griped, "and we still don't have any clue what the hell this is."_

"_Maybe it's Lupus," Wilson suggested wryly between coughs._

"_It's never Lupus," House shot back. "And do you still have that cough? How long's it been, now?"_

"_Three days," Wilson replied, stifling another cough._

"_Common cold. You'll be over it soon enough. Man up, Jimmy!"_

"_But I don't—feel congested or anything," Wilson protested, his sentence broken by another cough. "It's more like—my chest—"_

_Wilson stopped to catch his breath and House carefully looked him over. "God, you look awful, he mused bluntly. "Your eyes are bloodshot, meaning you haven't slept well lately, and you're sweating, too, implying a fever." Wilson swallowed and nodded. "You're breathing heavily," House continued, "which either means you're thinking about _naughty_ things"—he waggled his eyebrows suggestively—"or you're having trouble breathing."_

"_That's—all about right—" Wilson said, gasping for breath amidst coughing. "Ugh—" He grabbed the front of his shirt, grimacing in pain._

_House became slightly alarmed at this sudden gesture. "Wilson? Wilson, are you okay?"_

_Wilson tightly screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as he grasped House's shirt, holding on for all he was worth. "It—it hurts," he gasped, pain lacing his voice._

"_Wilson, hang on," House said, his alarm growing as he shouted over his shoulder: "We could use some help over here!"_

_Wilson slowly sank to his knees, unintentionally pulling the older man down with him. "…help me," he panted, raising his eyes up to House's. House was shocked by just how visible the pain and fear were in Wilson's deep, brown eyes. "H…help me, Greg," Wilson begged, grasping House's shirt even tighter. His brown hair was matted to his forehead by the sweat coating his body, which caused him to appear—if possible—even more vulnerable than he was at the moment._

_House looked Wilson in the eyes and, after a few seconds, finally located his voice. "…I'm here," he said, "and…I'll help you, Jimmy."_

_Just as a number of nurses—and Cuddy—rushed up to the scene, Wilson passed out. _

* * *

**H**ouse snapped awake when Cuddy gently touched his arm. "I thought you were going to your office," he greeted her grumpily.

"_I _thought _you_ were going _home_!" Cuddy retorted. "It's 11 am—the nurses told me you've been out since I left you here last evening."

The diagnostician tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Guess I did need some sleep," he muttered, more to himself than to Cuddy.

Cuddy's face immediately changed from annoyance to concern. "House…how much sleep have you gotten this week?"

"About eleven hours, give or take."

"What—?! House, you're insane!" Cuddy said disbelievingly. "At this rate, you'll drive yourself right into the ground!" She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I'm taking you off of the case," she said as an afterthought. "Your team should be able to handle it just fine. I doubt you'll be able to concentrate, anyways."

House opened his mouth to protest, but Cuddy's beeper interrupted him. After checking it, she looked up at him.

"The surgeon and his nurse are here," she said quietly. "I'm going down to meet them." Cuddy turned to walk away, but unsteady footsteps behind her stopped her from pressing the elevator button.

"Wait up," House muttered when she turned to face him. "I'm coming too."

* * *

**((A/N: I**'m sorry this chapter's so short, but I'm in a hurry to get out the door and I didn't want to leave everyone hanging--I promise I'll update the second half of this chapter soon; hopefully tonight!

--BKF))


	3. Arrival and Explanations

**((A/N: O**h my God, I can't tell you all how honoured I feel…I get this feeling of joy when I come home and see 15 messages in my inbox, all but two from you all reviewing and adding this to your fav's/alerts :)

Thank you all so much! And now, since I should've done this sooner, here's the second half of chapter two—technically chapter three :P

--BKF

* * *

**O**utside of Princeton-Plainsboro, a young man and a young woman exited their rental car and approached the hospital doors. The young man ran a hand through his sandy-brown hair slowly and let out a long sigh.

"Guess we didn't stop the outbreak fast enough," he murmured. "If there's cases popping up all the way over here on the East coast—"

"Doctor, I think we stopped it in time," the woman cut him off, her long, blonde hair catching the extraordinarily bright December sun. "This may just be an isolated case…but we should be ready for anything," she cautioned.

"I know," the man replied, removing his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt. "It's just…I worry whether we got here in enough time or not." He looked up and his hazel eyes met her emerald eyes as she exhaled slowly, her breath hovering in the air before her.

"We'll see, won't we, doctor?" she said, stepping through the automatic doors.

* * *

**J**ust as the elevator door opened, the automatic doors slid open as well. Cuddy strode over to meet the incoming figures, with House limping behind.

"Welcome," Cuddy said, shaking hands with the newcomers. "You must be Doctor Derek Stiles and Nurse Angie Thompson. I'm Doctor Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine here at Princeton-Plainsboro. It's very nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Doctor Cuddy," Derek replied as Angie gave an affirmative nod.

"Was the trip alright?" Cuddy asked. "I'm so sorry you had to come all the way out to New Jersey, but I just want you to know that I sincerely appreciate you doing so."

"The trip was fine, thank you," Angie said with a smile.

"And as I said on the phone," Derek added, "it's no trouble for us to come out here. Judging from the reports you've faxed us and the symptoms you've described, you caught this just in time; we should be able to operate with no problems."

"_Should_ be able to?" a snarky voice interrupted. Cuddy rolled her eyes; House had caught up to Cuddy and had heard the last part of the conversation.

When Derek and Angie looked curiously at House, Cuddy quickly introduced him. "Derek Stiles, Angie Thompson, this is Doctor Gregory House, head diagnostician of the hospital. If he gives you problems, you come straight to me."

"P-pleased to meet you," Angie stammered, extending her hand to House. He didn't reciprocate her handshake; he only stared at her outstretched hand until Angie awkwardly pulled her hand away.

"Shall we go and check on the patient?" Derek suggested, breaking the uncomfortable situation.

"Yes," Cuddy said softly, turning to the elevators. "Let's go.

* * *

"**S**o remind me exactly what this is?" House asked Cuddy half-an-hour later. Derek and Angie were the only ones allowed into Wilson's room while they examined him, communicating with Cuddy by headset.

Cuddy silently handed House a clipboard, which he took and looked over. He read the main parts of the information on the board aloud:

"'Gangliated Utrophin Immuno Latency Toxin—**GUILT**'," he murmured. "Clever. 'Seven strains: Kyriaki, Deftera, Triti, Tetarti, Pempti—'" Cuddy shuddered a bit "—'Paraskevi, and Savato.'" He looked up at the two in the room and rapped roughly on the glass.

"House!" Cuddy whispered fiercely, jerking his arm away. "What are you doing?! They're _working_!"

"Hey, what the hell _is_ this, anyways?" House barked into the headset that Cuddy was wearing around her neck.

Derek adjusted the headset so it was on his ears, feeling grateful that they hadn't been when House had practically blown out the speakers. "I'll explain when we're finished," he said, patience wearing thin. "Just be patient please, Doctor House.

* * *

**T**en minutes later, Derek and Angie emerged from Wilson's room and walked with House and Cuddy to the latter's office. When they were all inside and the door was shut securely, Derek began to speak.

"You did the right thing by hooking him up to a ventilator, Doctor Cuddy," he said. "The Pempti has taken over his right lung." Cuddy pressed a trembling fist to her mouth and her eyes glistened a bit. Everyone looked away uncomfortably as Derek continued, "but don't worry. If we operate immediately, he should be fine."

Angie looked over Wilson's chart carefully. "So Doctor Wilson started to experience complications about seven days ago?" she inquired.

"Mind telling us what this Pempti _is_ before we answer that?" House said, before Cuddy could even open her mouth. Angie looked irritated, but Derek nodded.

"It's only fair," he said. "As you read, GUILT—Gangliated Utrophin Immuno Latency Toxin—is a new virus that recently had a huge outbreak in different parts of the world. Angie and I, along with the rest of Caduceus, were able to bring the outbreak under control before it spread too far. However, it appears that we aren't finished yet; Doctor Wilson could be the first of many isolated cases."

"We're hoping not, though," Angie interjected. "We're just…really hoping that this is an isolated case, and it'll be over after this."

"Right," Derek said. "And as you also read, GUILT contains seven different strains: Kyriaki, Deftera—"

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," House said impatiently, waving his hand. "What the hell is Pempti?"

"Pempti is the fifth strain of GUILT," Derek replied. "It's…a gelatinous fluid that's…currently filling Doctor Wilson's right lung."

House sighed and tapped his cane on the ground a few times. "So…do you have any idea how to treat it?"

"Doctor House," Angie said, "Derek has operated on Pempti before. We've perfected the treatment, in fact, and should be able to completely eradicate the GUILT from Doctor Wilson's lung."

Cuddy slowly nodded. Derek hesitated for a few moments before speaking again.

"You…may not have picked up on this," he said carefully, "but…GUILT is not a natural occurrence."

Cuddy stared at him disbelievingly. "Do you mean…that somebody…infected Wilson with this…_thing…_on _purpose_?" She reached for the coffee mug on her desk, but dropped it because her hands were shaking so badly. Everybody stared at the spill for a minute, but looked back up at Derek, waiting for his reply.

Derek nodded grimly. "…I'm afraid so, Doctor Cuddy," he said softly. "I'm…not sure who, but that's not our major priority right now."

Cuddy took a deep breath, feeling a twinge of guilt as she thought of Wilson, who hadn't even been able to take a proper breath before passing out. "…but you can eradicate this…Pempti from his lung?"

Derek nodded. "If we operate immediately, he should be fine."

The tension in the room was unbelievably thick as Angie, Derek, and House waited for Cuddy's answer. She looked up at the young surgeon with red eyes as a single tear slipped down her cheek.

"Do what you have to, Doctor Stiles," she whispered.

* * *

**((A/N: S**orry for the kinda-sorta-cliffhanger, but it's 11 PM and I must go to bed…I just wanted to get this uploaded for you all tonight!

Look for more within the next few days, hopefully!

Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed and/or added this to their fav's and/or alerts so far!

--**BKF))**


	4. Begin the Operation

_**A/N: A**nd once again, you all are really making me happy with the reviews and alerts and favs—thank you all!_

_Er…just for a warning, there's some spoilers for probably all seasons of 'House, M.D.' and some major spoilers for 'Trauma Centre: Under the Knife'. I'm talking, like major-end-of-the-game-plot-spoilers. So read at your own risk!_

_Now, however, for your viewing pleasure, here is chapter four!_

* * *

_**W**__ord travels fast around here,_ House mused to himself. By the time that he and Cuddy had reached the observation room above the operating room, Foreman, Cameron, and Chase were already waiting there for them. 

"What's going on?" Cameron demanded. "Wh…what's wrong with Wilson?"

Cuddy responded by handing the clipboard to Cameron without speaking, and waiting for the 'ducklings' to silently read and process the information.

"W—wait a minute," Chase said a few minutes later. "This says that this…Pempti or whatever…isn't a naturally occurring phenomenon. But…that means—"

"—someone purposefully infected Wilson," Cameron finished quietly. Another few moments slipped by while everybody in the room took in this horrid thought.

"B-but…it can be…transmitted through the air, right?" Cameron said. She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat, and tried to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes. There had been some animosity between her and Wilson before, when the latter had ratted out House's Vicodin problem to Tritter, but she really did care about what happened to Wilson. "I mean—i-it says there's a risk of airborne infection with GUILT—!"

"Nobody else nearby has been reported to have the same symptoms," Cuddy gently explained, "and Pempti, according to Doctor Stiles, isn't a type of GUILT that's airborne."

There was silence for a moment until they heard Derek's voice from the speakers. "Doctor Cuddy, we're beginning the operation in a few minutes. Could you please turn on the video monitor up there? Our head of R&D, Victor Niguel, will be watching the operation from Caduceus and explaining it to all of you."

Cuddy nodded and turned on the monitor, and the image of a surly-looking man with dark blue hair appeared on the screen.

"Hey," he greeted them, "the name's Victor Niguel. I'm head of Research and Development at Caduceus. Now, I'd love to learn all of your names, but as this is a one-way monitor, I won't hear you and it'd be a waste of your breath." Cuddy flinched at his choice of words—an action not lost on the other doctors in the room—and again she thought of Wilson.

Derek and Angie had finished prepping for the operation and re-entered the operation room wearing sterile gowns, masks, and gloves. "Okay, Doctor Cuddy," Derek said, picking up a scalpel, "we're beginning the operation."

"We don't have time to spare," Angie cautioned. "Please disinfect the area."

Derek spread some green gel on Wilson's chest and reached for his scalpel.

"Okay, that's antibiotic gel," Victor explained. He was not facing the camera anymore; Cuddy figured that he was watching the surgery on a different screen. "It disinfects an area and heals small cuts and wounds instantly, so it's kinda like a cure-all ointment."

"Wow," Cameron said, impressed. "Caduceus has some pretty advanced medicine."

House remained silent as Angie said "please make your incision" and watched the young surgeon slowly do so.

After Derek had opened Wilson up, a collective gasp rang through the observation room; even House had jumped a little.

"Oh my _God_," Cuddy gasped. "What the hell _is_ that?!"

"Surprised, doctors?" Victor wryly said, still not facing the camera. "Welcome to the Pempti strain of GUILT." Chase stared disbelievingly at the purple substance that was taking up most of the operating monitor as Cameron buried her face in her hands. "This gelatinous fluid is filling Doctor Wilson's right lung." Foreman closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling revolted at the sight of the Pempti pulsating. A small, hazy object was floating around aimlessly in the substance.

"See that hazy object inside, there?" Victor asked. They all nodded in reply, though Victor was unable to see their nods and continued. "That's the largest concentration of Pempti cells, and where Derek's gonna inject the nanomachine."

"…Nanomachine?" House muttered, speaking for the first time since entering the observation room.

"Back at Caduceus," Victor said, as if he had heard House, "when the first case of Pempti came up, I created a nanomachine that would reveal the Pempti core. It removes a lot of the Pempti's tissue." Everyone watched the operation monitor as Derek slowly injected something from an orange vial—likely the nanomachine that Victor had mentioned—into the moving, hazy object.

Victor leaned forward, pushing a button on a visible control panel. "Careful, Derek," he warned. "Remember, that thing's moving." Victor had a connection to the OR and could be heard, assumed from Derek nodding in reply.

"Got it," the surgeon grunted into the headset and microphone he wore. He pulled the syringe out of the Pempti and everybody watched in wonder as about half of its cells receded.

"Do it again," Victor commanded, pushing the communication button once more. Derek did not reply with words this time; his nod was all he could spare energy for as he filled his syringe with another dose of the nanomachine. Again he slowly administered the contents of the needle, and again half of the remaining Pempti cells receded.

"It's almost all gone," Cameron said hopefully. Chase, Forman, and Cuddy all nodded, feeling a bit hopeful themselves. Only House did not nod; he hadn't heard the statement in Cameron's sentence so much as the implied question.

Something slowly came into view on the OR monitor. It was round and a deeper purple than the gelatinous fluid that it was surrounded by.

"Laser, Derek!" Victor barked. Derek quickly responded by applying the laser to the spherical object for a few seconds until it disappeared in a very small explosion.

"You did it, Doctor Stiles!" Cameron exulted, grinning from ear to ear. Unfortunately, Victor's next words had the extremely quick effect of wiping the smile off of her face and clutching her heart in an ice-cold, pincer-like grip.

"We're not even nearly close to being done here," he said grimly. "That was the Pempti core, yes, but there's a really obvious flaw in Pempti's DNA—that flaw allowed us to successfully administer the nanomachine and by doing so, convince Pempti to kinda blow itself up. Because of that flaw, though, Pempti's got one helluva contingency plan to back it up." As he spoke, they could all see the core recreate itself.

"Wha—no," Cuddy whispered. "_No…_" Foreman grimaced, Chase sighed in defeat, and Cameron stared at the monitor in bewilderment.

_Who…who's trying so hard to kill Wilson?_ She thought. _ Why would anybody want to hurt him?_

Suddenly, smaller cores appeared around the large one and began to circle it. House closely watched one of the other monitors as the cores continued to circle.

"…they're causing his vitals to drop," he murmured. Derek was already on the problem by frying the smaller cores with the laser.

When all of the cores had been incinerated, Angie reported "vitals are holding at 71. The larger core has emerged, Doctor Stiles—hit it with the laser!"

As Derek began to hit the main core with the laser, the core began to flash different colours. At one point, however, it stopped flashing.

"Chiral reaction dropping," Angie said, "but the numbers are still too high. We've still got a ways to go, Doctor."

"We measure GUILT by chirality," Victor explained to the other doctors. "We do what's called a Chiron Wavelength test—currently the only way to distinguish GUILT. When its chiral reaction drops, we're defeating it. Oh, yeah—and when the core's flashing, Derek's killing it, thus causing its Chiral reaction to drop."

Suddenly five mini-cores, which Derek hastily tried to burn with the laser, spread out across the mass of Pempti. "What's happening?" Cameron fearfully asked. Without warning, the Pempti surged forward and slowly withdrew, leaving behind a row of small tumors for each mini-core.

"Derek, fry them!" Victor ordered, "and put some gel on them!" Derek obliged and burned the tumors with the laser, quickly applying gel afterwards.

_And here we thought tumors were so hard to remove,_ Chase thought dryly. _These guys are way ahead of their time in medicine and technology…_

"Good save," Victor said as Derek filled a syringe from a green vial. "That stuff he's using now is stabilizer; it'll bring Doctor Wilson's vitals back up." House watched the monitor as Derek carefully injected the medicine; Wilson's vitals rose back up to 84.

Just as Derek put the syringe down, the main core spawned another mini-core. Before he could reach the laser, the core sliced across Wilson's lung in a flash, leaving behind a huge laceration. Cuddy pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming as she watched in shock; more mini-cores were creating even more lacerations on the lung just as quickly as the first one had. Derek hastily reached for the laser to fry the cores, but Victor stopped him.

"Forget it!" he shouted. "Stitch up the lacerations or Doctor Wilson's dead!" Everybody watched in horror as Wilson's vitals dropped rapidly. 71…59…44…30…18…11…

"Vitals dropping!" Angie yelled. "Doctor Stiles, we're losing him!"

"I know!" Derek growled, filling the syringe with stabilizer and desperately trying to sew up Wilson's lung while still frying the main core, which had thankfully stopped generating mini-cores for the time being. Derek alternated between injecting stabilizer and suturing more lacerations, but it was becoming much more difficult as mini-cores once again began to circle the main core, causing Wilson's vitals to drop even more.

"He's got Wilson's vitals back up to 32," Foreman said, "but they're…dammit, falling again?!"

"Oh, _God_," Cuddy whispered. House kept his eyes on the monitors, once again watching the numbers fall: 32…27…18…11…4…

"DAMMIT!" Derek shouted, hurriedly adding more stabilizer. "Don't die on me, Doctor Wilson!"

"DEREK!" Angie shrieked, watching the numbers fall despite Derek's best efforts to keep them up.

"WILSON!" Cameron screamed.

Cuddy took a long, deep breath, unable to comprehend the pandemonium any longer, and memories came to her as she tried to calm herself down.


	5. Miracle Memories

**A/N: I **often look at those stories that have something like 30 reviews for 5 chapters, and I think, "Wow…that person's so lucky!" Well…seems like here I am! XD Again I want to reiterate just how grateful I am to all of you for the reviews you give me! So, to honour that, I'm going to respond to a few of you here:

**Ha'ri soma—** O.o eeep. Please don't hurt me…I'd rather my obituary not read "mauled by plushies"…  
**mIKESH— **Heh, I find it interesting you say that sounded like a video game, considering this fic is a crossover with _Trauma Centre: Under the Knife_, which is a video game :P The operation in the last chapter was step-by-step how you operate on Pempti in the game ((only hopefully not with as many lacerations as Derek had O.o)) As for not killing off Wilson…((cough)) Just wait and see…  
**lollipop—**As with mIKESH, guess you'll just have to wait and see what happens…

To all the rest of you that have reviewed so far, thank you so much! I've replied to a few of you before ((which is why I didn't here)), and to those that are calling me evil/telling me that was a huge cliffy/saying you can't wait for more…thank you!!

Er…I realize I'm kind of changing the original scene(s) from the show, but it's more for effect than anything.

In order to make everyone happy ((read: cover my butt for not updating sooner)), I tried to give you an extra-long chapter here! Please enjoy!

--bkf

* * *

_**C**__uddy sat in a chair just inside the door of her office with her back to the window. Wilson approached and knocked on the door, seeing Cuddy and wondering why she wasn't at her desk._

"_Busy," Cuddy replied shortly. Wilson, sensing that something was wrong, entered anyways and got a good look at Cuddy. He was stunned; the Dean of Medicine had tears running down her face._

"_You okay?" he asked hesitantly._

"_Yeah, sure," Cuddy replied, feeling embarrassed that Wilson had seen her so vulnerable and wiping her tears away._

"_Uh, what I meant by 'are you okay' is 'what the hell did House do'?" Wilson corrected himself._

_Cuddy sighed and glanced away as Wilson sat stood, waiting for her answer. "Nothing," she said softly._

"_What did he say?"_

_Cuddy took a deep breath before speaking. "…I have seen House be rude a thousand times, usually to achieve something," she said. "…but I have never seen him be mean just because he can."_

"_Seriously?" Wilson asked, arching an eyebrow. "What did he say?"_

"_Nothing. It doesn't matter," Cuddy said brusquely, trying to let the subject drop._

_Wilson sat down in the chair diagonal from Cuddy's and sighed, resting his chin in his hand. "Well," he said carefully, "I've seen House be rude to you a thousand times…but I've never seen it get to you." He looked up at her, unsure whether or not she would respond. Just as he was about to say something else, Cuddy spoke._

"_People think…that House has no inner sensor," she said. "But the fact is…he holds himself back. Because when he wants to hurt…" Here she took another deep breath, self-consciously wiping away a stray tear. "…he knows just where to poke a sharp stick."_

_She paused, searching for her voice for a moment. "I…have been trying to get pregnant…and House knew. He told me…" Cuddy averted her eyes and swallowed hard, whispering her final thought. "He told me that I would fail as a mother." For once, the oncologist couldn't find the right words, but Cuddy filled the silence that hung in the air, unable to stop now that she had started talking. "I've had three separate implantations," she murmured. "The first two never took. The last one…I lost."_

"…_I'm sorry," Wilson said, finally finding his voice. "Cuddy, you didn't fail. Those were physical events." Even as he said this, however, he understood just why House's words had pained Cuddy so. He sat for a moment, trying to take in everything that Cuddy had said, while Cuddy rose from her seat. Seeing her stand, Wilson did as well. He watched Cuddy wiping her eyes and trying to hide the evidence that she had been crying. Wanting to spare her any more awkwardness, he turned to leave, but Cuddy placed a hand on his arm, so he turned back to face her._

"…_thanks for listening," she said softly, smiling a little bit._

'_You're welcome' would've been the first thing out of Wilson's mouth if Cuddy hadn't caught him off-guard at that moment by hugging him tightly. He was momentarily stunned and unsure what to say or do, but Wilson found himself unconsciously putting his arms around her as well._

"_You're welcome," he whispered after a moment of silence between them. _

* * *

…_**O**__r when we went to that art museum together, and he read the dates wrong, _Cuddy thought with a slight smile. _We ended up going to that really bizarre art show, and poor Wilson was so embarrassed by all of it…_

House glanced over at Cuddy and caught her smiling. He looked at her for a moment before assessing that the look in her eyes was hazy with memories; she likely wasn't in-tune with the operation at this point.

Down in the OR, Derek struggled to keep Wilson's vitals up while trying to suture lacerations and trying to destroy the mini-cores all at once. He had broken out in a sweat and his mouth had gone completely dry, but he was mindless to his own problems. Wilson's vitals were still dangerously low at 14, and Derek was running out of stabilizer.

_Dammit,_ he thought frantically. _If I run out of stabilizer, can I keep Doctor Wilson alive long enough for Angie to get more?_

Angie kept a wary eye on the fast-emptying vial, feeling a little sick at the thought of what would happen once it was empty.

…_I have to keep him alive, _Derek thought, suturing more incisions. _I have to…! _"Angie, get some more stabilizer from our supplies!" he ordered. Angie only nodded and rushed to refill the now empty vial.

"Oh, God," Cameron moaned softly. _They __can't__ be out of stabilizer…that's all that's been keeping Wilson alive…!_

Derek swallowed hard. "C'mon," he muttered, "if I can just concentrate—!"

House stared into the young surgeon's eyes and saw a sudden sharpness to them, as if he had blocked out everything save the GUILT in Wilson's lungs. As the diagnostician watched him suture the wounds, he saw a rapid increase in speed—and accuracy. House looked over at Cuddy, who had faded back to the present and was now watching Derek operate, transfixed; House knew that she had seen the change as well.

At that moment, Angie returned with a full vial. "Doctor!" she cried. "I—" Suddenly she stopped. "Oh," she said softly, taking a step away and quietly leaving the vial with the rest of the equipment. Without missing a beat, Derek injected three rounds of stabilizer, bringing Wilson's vitals back up to 37. After doing so, he sutured the remaining lacerations and returned to attacking the main core while alternately administering more stabilizer.

Chase stared at Derek in wonder. _What on God's earth came over him?_ He thought. _It's like he's a completely different person right now…he seems so focused, and Wilson's condition—compared to a few minutes ago, anyways—shows that he is._

Victor had fallen silent long ago and had been temporarily forgotten by the others until Foreman looked over at the screen. The blue-haired man's eyes were still fixed on the operation screen that he could see, teeth and fists clenched tightly. Foreman watched him curiously for a minute until Cameron's sharp gasp quickly brought him back to the operation.

"Oh God, more of those lacerating cores!" she shouted. Her fears had barely been given the time to fester before they were placated by Derek quickly destroying them before they could do any damage.

"Chiral reaction weak, Doctor Stiles," Angie said. "Not too much longer, now—!"

Everybody held their breath as Derek applied the laser to the core for a good 15 seconds until, like the first core had, it began to expel blue bubbles. Cuddy's heart stopped until the core disappeared in a small explosion, and the rest of the Pempti tissue disappeared as well.

"Chiral reaction negative, Doctor!" Angie cheered as the observation room exploded in emotion. "You completely eradicated the GUILT from his lung! He's going to be alright now!" Her grin turned to a soft smile as she watched Derek carefully stitch Wilson back up, dispel the blood with antibiotic gel, apply a bandage to the stitches, and administer more stabilizer to bring Wilson's vitals up to 86. "He's going to be alright now," Angie gently repeated. Neither of them noticed that House was watching as well; he noticed that Derek's eyes had lost their sharpness and reverted back to a soft, warm brown—_Just like Wilson's eyes,_ House realized a moment later—after he had applied the bandage.

Cameron threw her arms around Chase in her happiness as the latter excitedly recounted Derek's amazing surgical skills to Foreman (who politely listened, though he had just seen said skills for himself). Only House was unresponsive until Cuddy approached him and gently touched his shoulder. He looked up into her eyes and saw tears streaming down her cheeks, though she smiled.

"He's going to be okay now," Cuddy said softly, wiping away the tears. House nodded silently in reply and turned back to watch Angie and Derek clean up their supplies. As Cuddy watched House, she couldn't help but feel sad—_and a little angry?_ She thought—that the success of the operation had moved him so little. She was about to leave him there alone until she noticed a single tear in his left eye. Cuddy smiled and gently put her arms around House's shoulders for a minute before leaving the observation room.

* * *

**A/N: A**aack! Poor House is a little OOC there at the end with the tear, but come on! I don't think he's completely inhuman…that and I needed something to show that he wasn't unmoved that Wilson came through the operation alive.

Hopefully chapter 6 will be coming soon; I still need to write a lot of it, though…

**And as a random note, until I added this sentence in bold, chapter 4 and chapter 5 both had exactly 1711 words...ooooweeeeEEEEEEEEooooooooo O.o**

Thanks again for all of the reviews!!

--bkf


	6. Healing Touch

**A/N: N**ot too much to say about this chapter, I guess, except I thought I'd typed more of it sooner. I write all of the fic in study hall ((my study hall is 3rd period, and all I have before it is Geometry and American Cultures, so we don't have much homework by then, lol)), so I guess I thought I'd typed what I'd written, at least this far. Oops.

Also, I put a Wikipedia link to _Trauma Centre: Under the Knife_ on my main page, for anyone who wants to find out more about the game and/or get visuals about the characters ;) Though I warn you: it'll spoil some stuff I haven't gotten around to explaining yet, so if you do, read at your own risk!

Anyways, as always, thank you all so much for the love and reviews ((and threats from Hatori Soma XD—thanks for calming him down enough to not eat me, by the way!)), and please enjoy!

--bkf

* * *

**L**ater that night, Wilson had been returned to his room, though he was still unconscious. When Cuddy expressed her concern about this to Derek, the surgeon calmed her fears.

"It's normal," he assured her. "Our first Pempti victim didn't wake up for three days after his operation. He almost seemed as if he were about to say more, but he stopped. Though she didn't feel as if she was getting the entire story, Cuddy felt better after Doctor Stiles' words of comfort.

They were talking just outside of the room, but House—seated on a chair in the room—had tuned them out at the very beginning of the conversation. He watched Wilson's chest rising and falling, and was lulled into a sense of calm by the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

House was so deep in thought that he didn't notice another presence in the room until he felt a tap on the shoulder. The sudden tap startled him, though he hid it and glared up at the offender. The stranger was an older man, and very rotund. He had short, grey-white hair and a warm smile, and was well-dressed in a brown suit. Before House could even open his mouth to ask who he was, the man spoke.

"Are you friend or family?" he kindly asked.

"Who the hell are you?" House fired back.

"Pardon my rudeness," the man said. "My name is Richard Anderson; I was the Secretary of Health and in charge of Caduceus."

"'Was'?" House said. "You get canned or something?"

Secretary Anderson smiled a little. "Let's say yes. But I reiterate my question—are you friend or family of him?" He gestured at Wilson.

"I'm a pimp and he's my whore," House sighed, rolling his eyes.

Secretary Anderson chuckled. "You must be Doctor House. Everybody at Caduceus has heard of you—your skill and your snark." He fell silent for a moment, watching Wilson. "…don't worry about your friend," he said softly. "He will be fine."

"Are you a doctor?" House challenged.

"Well, no," Anderson admitted, "but—"

"Then thanks, but no thanks," House gruffly cut him off. "Your opinion is worthless to me." He turned back, facing Wilson.

To House's surprise, the secretary only smiled and nodded. "Very well," he said. "…take care of Doctor Wilson, House."

House blinked after registering the sentence and turned away from Wilson. "Wait a minute, how do you know his—" As he trailed off, he realized that the old man was no longer there. "—name," House finished lamely.

* * *

**M**uch later, around 10:40 pm, Cuddy was trying to convince House and the 'Ducklings' to go home. "There's nothing more you can help with right now," she said gently but firmly. "Go home. We'll let you know if we hear anything."

Derek and Angie approached at that moment and Angie nodded in reply to what Cuddy had said. "Please don't worry…we have everything under control," she said comfortingly. "He may even be awake by morning."

Before anybody else could reply, House snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at Derek and Angie. "Do you two know a guy named Richard Anderson?" he asked.

Angie's eyes narrowed into slits. "Why?" she demanded.

"Because he came into Wilson's room today and told me that Wilson was gonna be okay. He introduced himself as—"

"Doctor House, is this your idea of a sick joke?!" Angie growled, glaring at House.

"—as the former Secretary of Health and Head of Caduceus," House continued, as if Angie had not interrupted him. "I figure he got canned or something."

Angie could hold herself back no longer and she got right up into House's face. "He didn't get 'CANNED'!" she shouted. "He DIED! He died three days after his operation!"

"What the _hell_ did that have to do with Wilson?" House snapped back. "That guy said that he'd be okay; what the hell does _he_ know?!"

"Secretary Anderson was our first Pempti victim!" Angie screamed. "He died three days after his operation!"

"ANGIE!" Derek barked, grabbing her by the arm. Cuddy's eyes widened as the magnitude of Angie's words settled uneasily amongst the group. Angie paled, realizing what she had just said.

"Oh, _shit,_" she whispered disbelievingly.

"Oh my God," Cuddy gasped, feeling sick.

"Doctor Cuddy, I am so sorry," Derek said. "Please, Angie was angry; she didn't know what she was saying—"

"She knew damn well what she was saying," House grumbled under his breath.

"Please, listen, Doctor Cuddy," Derek begged. "Secretary Anderson was old; his body couldn't handle the final surgery. He was our first Pempti victim, so we had to perfect the treatment by using our data from his three surgeries."

Foreman spoke up at this. "That guy, Victor Niguel…he's your head of R&D, right?" Derek nodded. "And _he's_ the one that had to perfect the treatment, right?" Again Derek nodded.

"After we lost Secretary Anderson," Angie softly said, "Victor locked himself in the lab for days after, trying to develop the treatment. He blamed—and I'm sure he still blames—himself for Secretary Anderson's death."

Forman's mind wandered back to the operation and he recalled the clenched teeth and fists of Victor. He silently mulled over just what could have been going on in Victor's mind; the blue-haired man had probably sought solace through Derek saving Wilson.

Angie's eyes were filled with tears of embarrassment. "I…I'm so sorry, Doctor Cuddy," she whispered, a blush spreading over her cheeks. "I don't know what came over me…I really didn't mean it; I'm sure that Doctor Wilson will be fine—!" She stopped abruptly as Cuddy held up her hand.

"It's okay, Angie," Cuddy said gently. "Just calm down, take care of Wilson, and let us know if there's any change." She smiled a little. "Good night, Doctor Stiles…Nurse Angie." She turned to the others. "Good night, Foreman, Cameron, Chase…House," she added softly. She turned and walked down the hallway with Forman and Chase, leaving Cameron and House with Derek and Angie.

"I'm sorry about Secretary Anderson," Cameron carefully said.

"Thank you," Derek said with a slight smile.

Angie swallowed hard. "He…he told us that he was giving us full discretion of his care…told us to use his data in order to save future victims…" She cut off, sniffling for a moment. "…he put his complete trust in us…in Caduceus."

There was a moment of silence before Cameron addressed Derek. "Doctor Stiles…your intense concentration is astounding. Just when I thought we were going to lose Wilson—" Cameron suddenly had to stop and catch her breath, feeling overwhelmed by the thought for a second "—you saved him. What happened?"

Derek smiled a little. "It's a…well, 'power', I guess, for lack of a better word…that I have, called the Healing Touch. Now, I know you probably think I'm crazy," he said hastily, seeing Cameron and House's disbelieving faces, "but it's true. When I was first told about it, the head of the hospital I used to work at told me that people who have this Healing Touch have other powers, like uncanny judgment, intense concentration, and unmatched surgical skills. …he told me, too, that it's believed that people with the Healing Touch descended from the Greek god Asclepius."

"…the God of Medicine?" Cameron slowly said.

"I found it hard to believe, too," Derek nodded. "But when I concentrate on a certain shape—a star—time almost seems to stop. It's like everything slows down to the point where it's barely moving."

"…wow," Cameron murmured. "That would explain why you appeared to be moving lightning-fast." She looked up and smiled at Derek, while ignoring House rolling his eyes and muttering "nut job" under his breath. "Well, regardless of how you did it, Doctor Stiles, I'm so grateful to you for saving Wilson…thank you." She hugged the surgeon and turned back to House before leaving. "House, you should go home and rest," she suggested. As she boarded the elevator and the doors closed behind her, House turned away and shook his head.

"Like hell I can," he muttered.

* * *

**A/N: I**'m cutting off here for now, since I have a big project due on Monday, but I'll come back and type chapter 6 as soon as I get a chance ((after finishing my poster on Rheinland-Pfalz for German class :P)).

Thanks for reading, all!

--bkf


	7. Wondering Why

"**I'**m_really _not supposed to let you in here," Derek grumbled at House as he checked the monitor. "But I'm going to, despite that fact, so don't get either of us in trouble."

"Who's gonna tell?" House shrugged as he sat in the chair located in the back corner of the room. "Wilson's still unconscious, _I'm_ not gonna tell, and you've made it clear that _you_ don't want to, either."

Derek ignored him as he wrote down some information. "…and vitals are holding at 87. Great." He scribbled down the last notation and strode for the door. Before opening the door, though, Derek hesitated. Slowly he turned to face House. "…Doctor House," he said. "…please try not to worry about…what Angie said earlier."

"Which part?"

Derek sighed, thinking. "…well, both, I guess," he said. "You weren't trying to be insensitive about Secretary Anderson…you didn't know that he'd died, and I understand that." The brown-eyed surgeon paused. "…but…you saw him, you said?" Derek carefully added.

House didn't reply; he continued to stare unblinkingly at Wilson's sleeping figure.

Derek smiled slightly. "That's alright. I didn't really expect an answer anyways. I'll be back to check on Doctor Wilson in a bit—good night, Doctor House." He left, sliding the door shut behind him and leaving House alone with no company other than his own thoughts and Wilson.

* * *

_**W**__ho's trying so hard to off you, Wilson?_ House mused to himself, several hours later. _And why? What did you do that pissed someone off badly enough to want to kill you?_ He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Frustration overtook him, and thinking harder about the situation made his brain feel like it was going to explode. It was 3:17 a.m. by this point—four straight hours of thinking hadn't brought House any closer to a suitable conclusion.

The door slid open and Derek entered. He had been checking in every hour for the past four hours; each time, the obvious lack of sleep was taking its toll on Derek (and his mood) more and more.

"Vitals still holding at 87," he muttered, scribbling down what the monitor showed.

"Doctor Stiles, why would someone try to kill Wilson?" House inquired, never looking at the surgeon as he spoke. "What could he have done that—"

"Did it ever occur to you," Derek grumped, cutting the diagnostician off, "that_maybe _the GUILT was intended for you, and either the perpetrator injected Wilson instead of you, or that your best friend saved your sorry ass?"

"Why would he want to save me?" House retorted. "I'm an outcast, a loner, and a misanthropic bastard—or so I'm told." He chuckled wryly. "By most people's standards, I wouldn't be worth it. And who the hell could mix me and Wilson up? We're complete opposites of each other."

Derek shrugged helplessly, tucking his clipboard under his arm. "How the hell would I know?" he sighed. "Maybe somebody knew that you and Doctor Wilson are friends, and tried to hurt you by hurting him." He headed for the door without another word, leaving House alone once more.

House sighed. _That__ occurred to me, too,_ he thought. _But that led me to another who and why, and I couldn't think of anything from there… _

* * *

_**H**__is thoughts traced back to the previous Christmas—almost a year earlier—when he had overdosed on Vicodin and alcohol, causing him to pass out in his own vomit. He had been unconscious when Wilson had come by and knocked on the door. After knocking a few times, House figured, Wilson had panicked and unlocked the door. When he had spotted House, he had hurried to the side of his fallen friend._

_House blearily opened his eyes and looked up at the oncologist when he felt Wilson gently tilting his head away from the vomit. He could see the fear in Wilson's eyes change to anger when the latter found the empty pill bottle next to him. He quickly stood, glowering down at House, and threw the bottle to the floor before storming out and slamming the door behind him, leaving House to wallow on the floor._

House faded back to the present and continued to watch Wilson sleep. He sighed and leaned back into his chair, checking the clock. By this time, it was nearly 4 a.m.

"Why have you covered my ass and saved me so many times," he murmured, "if you didn't think I was worth it?" After waiting a few moments, as if for an answer, House nodded off to sleep for the first time that night.

It was well after 5 a.m., and after Doctor Stiles' next check-in, before Wilson slowly opened his eyes and looked at his sleeping friend. He chuckled a bit at the sight of House sleeping so peacefully in the chair and thought about just how nice it was to see the diagnostician so calm for once.

"You _are_ worth it, you idiot," he whispered softly, feeling a single tear slide down his cheek.

* * *

**A/N:** **I** know this chapter's shorter than the others, but I wanted to get it up before I went to bed. I'll write more soon...don't worry!

Congrats/thanks to Rangerette for being my 30th review!!


	8. Need To Know

**A/N: N**othing much to say this time, except that I'm finding some pretty good House fanfics on here ((waves at medicgirl)). : ) And thanks once again to everyone who's added this to their favourites and/or reviewed!

Sorry for the extremely long wait…I promise if it wasn't 11:32 at night, I'd upload more, but I'm going to bed now…I'll do more tomorrow, I promise!

**Warning: **I think this is starting to turn slightly Wouseish X3

Also, I just realized that I called this chapter "Need To Know"...oops, the reference to House was not intentional!

--bkf

* * *

**H**ouse shifted a little bit at Wilson's voice, and the oncologist feared that he had disturbed the diagnostician's peaceful slumber. House didn't stir again, though, so Wilson figured he was still asleep. After being relieved of this, however, it occurred to Wilson just where he was. 

_How the hell did I get __here?!_ He thought in bewilderment. He would have probed more deeply into the matter had a flicker of movement not caught his eye. Wilson looked up and saw House carefully limping over to his side.

"…hey," Wilson hoarsely greeted him.

"Hey," House muttered in reply. "…how're you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," Wilson groaned. "I feel like crap."

"The surgeon said that'll be normal," House said. "What—"

"Wait, _surgeon?!_" Wilson interrupted him in a panic. "What the hell are you _talking_ about, House?!"

"Calm down," House told him, "or you'll tear your stitches. The stuff in your chest…we had to get a surgeon to operate on you and remove it."

His words, being incredibly vague, did nothing to calm Wilson. "_What_ 'stuff in my chest', House?" he pleaded. "What are you _talking_ about?"

House checked his watch. "It's about 5:40. The doctor should be in any minute to check on you. I'll let him explain—none of us really understood it."

Wilson unconsciously put a hand on the line of stitches going down the right side of his chest. House watched him trace his finger lightly down the line and shudder. Wilson's brown eyes were clouded with fear as he wondered just what on God's earth they could have removed from his chest.

"…what do you remember?"

Wilson gave a start of surprise at House's voice; for a minute he had forgotten the older man was there. He looked up into House's ice-blue eyes, as if searching for some clue as to what House meant by his question. "You mean, before I passed out?" Wilson inquired, arching an eyebrow. At House's nod, he turned away and thought for a moment. "…I remember…feeling like my lungs were being filled, weighed down to the point that I couldn't breathe…I remember you telling me it was a cold…" Here he smiled wryly at House. "I…remember it being so painful to even try and breathe…I grabbed onto you and pulled you down to the floor with me…and I…begged you to help me."

House internally grimaced, remembering the frantic plea Wilson had given shortly before collapsing into his arms. "Anything else?" he asked gruffly, trying to hide his emotions.

Wilson half-closed his eyes, allowing his eyelashes to hide the emotion in his deep brown eyes. "I remember you promising you would help me." He looked up at House. "You…called me Jimmy."

_Of all things to remember, why couldn't have forgotten _that_ one?_ House dryly thought. "I had about three minutes earlier, too," he retorted.

"But you were only fooling around then," Wilson fired back. "When you called me Jimmy, before I passed out…you were serious. You were afraid, House."

_Dammit, where's Stiles?_ House grumped to himself, looking away. _I _don't_ need a psycho-analysis._ When he looked back at Wilson, he was surprised to see a smile on the younger man's face.

"…you were afraid of what would happen to me," Wilson murmured. "You were…actually human towards another person." He gave House a knowing look as his smile grew a little.

House glanced out the window. "No horsemen of doom. I _guess_ that's a possibility," he quipped.

Wilson chuckled a bit as the door slid open and Derek entered, muttering to himself and checking his clipboard. The young surgeon definitely looked worse for the wear; his glasses were on upside-down and his hair was rumpled, as were his clothes. House figured he had woken up from a quick nap and was still groggy.

"Lovely morning, isn't it, Doctor Stiles?" House mock-chirruped, causing Derek to look up. When he saw Wilson sitting up and looking at him, Derek jumped a bit, dropping his clipboard and scattering papers everywhere.

"D-doctor Wilson!" he stammered. "You're awake!"

"_No_, he's just learned to sleep with his eyes open," House scoffed, with a roll of his eyes tossed in for good measure.

Wilson closed his eyes and shook his head. _Is it _possible _for House to have any humanity in him? _He wondered.

"I-I must say, I'm shocked," Derek admitted, hurrying over to check the monitors. "We weren't expecting you to be up for at least another day or so…are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, but a_ little_ concerned about what House said you removed from my chest—wait, who _are_ you, anyways?" Wilson replied.

"Oh, s-sorry!" Derek hastily, seeming embarrassed. "I'm Doctor Derek Stiles, from Caduceus."

"Caduceus U.S.A.?" Wilson replied incredulously. "Caduceus is the forefront of modern medicine!"

"Well…ehe, kinda," Derek sheepishly grinned. "The other guys are more the top-notch people; I'm still learning—slowly but surely!" After a long, deep breath, his expression darkened dramatically. "Anyways, Doctor Wilson…I was your surgeon…" He let out a slow, long breath. "Doctor Wilson, you had a strain of a very dangerous disease, called GUILT…Gangliated Utrophin Immuno Latency Toxin."

Having already heard Derek's explanation, House chose to watch Wilson's reaction as Derek spoke. The oncologist's face changed from skepticism to disbelief, disbelief to fear, and finally from fear to blankness.

"I know it's a lot to take in right now, Doctor Wilson," Derek gently said, "but I need to know…is there any way that somebody could have infected you? So far, our only known ways of infection are airborne or injection…but Pempti isn't airborne."

"Nobody stabbed me with a needle, if that's what you're implying," Wilson replied shortly.

Derek thought for a few minutes, until his eyes suddenly lit up with a possible explanation. "Doctor Wilson," he carefully approached, "…are you on any medication?"

Wilson sighed through his nose. "Just some antidepressants…why?"

Derek chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "Annnnnd…how long have you been taking them?"

Wilson shrugged helplessly. "Three months. _Why_, Doctor Stiles? Is this important?"

"Just one more question," Derek promised. "Do you really _look_ at your pills before you take them?"

"I make sure I have the right number of pills," Wilson replied, "but I don't closely examine them when I—" Suddenly, what Derek was implying became clear to him and Wilson felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh, _God,_" he whispered hoarsely.

"Three months…that'd be long enough for you to be used to taking them; I doubt you'd look closely at the pills by then," Derek said. "…where are your pills, Doctor Wilson?" he gently inquired. "I need to look at them."

"I'm here at the hospital a lot," Wilson murmured, barely looking up at Derek. "…they're in my desk…"

Derek met House's eyes; the surgeon's brown eyes questioned House's blue ones. "I'll get them," House muttered, but Wilson reached out and grabbed his wrist. House could only blink once in surprise as he tried to pull away, but Wilson dug his fingernails into House's arm. The diagnostician looked into Wilson's brown eyes, which were cloudy and unfocused.

"Please don't leave," Wilson whispered; his voice was so soft that House wondered for a moment if he had imagined it. He knew that he hadn't, though, when Derek looked at him and smiled slightly.

"Don't worry about it…I'll send somebody to get them, Doctor House," Derek said. "And I'll have Angie call Doctors Cuddy, Cameron, Chase, and Foreman."

House nodded slightly. "Thank you," he muttered quietly, which Derek took to be a dismissal. After Derek had left, House glanced down at Wilson.

"Wilson," he said softly. The oncologist didn't stir. "Wilson," House said, raising his voice a bit. Still Wilson didn't respond. "Jimmy!" House barked. This time, Wilson jumped in surprise and looked up at House curiously. "You're cutting off the blood flow to my wrist," House shortly pointed out.

"Oh, I am?" Wilson distractedly said, looking down at House's wrist. "Ugh…sorry, House," he groaned, releasing House's wrist and running a hand through his hair. "I'm just…not thinking right now." He moved over a little and patted the spot on the bed next to him, looking up at House expectantly.

"People might start thinking I care," House snarked.

Wilson smirked a little. "You can't fool me anymore…_Greg_," he added for emphasis. "I know you care." As he had no retort for this, House carefully sat next to Wilson, leaving his cane against the bed.

For a few moments, there was silence between the two, until Wilson looked at House and carefully posed a question. "…House," he started. "…did you think…I mean, were you really afraid…" He took a deep breath. Damn, this was hard to ask! "…were you really afraid…that I would…die?"

As soon as the question was in the air, Wilson instantly wished that he could take it back, for he knew at best that House would respond with sarcasm; at worst he would laugh in Wilson's face. _Nice going, __Jimmy_, Wilson bitterly thought_. You'll __never__ hear the end of __that__ one…_

He was so braced for House's snark that he was caught off guard by the diagnostician's reply. "…a little," House heard himself admit. Before he could beat himself over the head with his cane for such a reply, he couldn't help but continue: "When…when your vitals dropped to 4…I got worried that we'd lose you." He sighed as Wilson shuddered, thinking about how close to death he had been. "Wilson…we don't think these things are possible until they happen, or almost do…I never thought I would O.D., get shot, or even lose the suitable use of my right leg…" He paused again to take a deep breath. "And until your vitals were down to 4, and I saw you bleeding all over the operating table…I never thought it was possible to lose you."

Wilson took a deep breath, feeling grateful that he was able to do so again. He played House's words over in his mind a few times, each time still unable to believe that they had come from House's mouth.

But they had.

Without thinking, he tightly wrapped his arms around the older man, holding on for dear life, as if he'd never let go. House was caught unawares by this sudden display of emotion and was unable to respond for a moment. After taking a second to gather his thoughts, he carefully put his arms around the younger man. Wilson opened his eyes, honestly surprised that House had responded in the way he did, but closed his eyes again, feeling warmed by House's gentle hold.

Wilson had no idea how long it had been before he heard a quietly clearing throat that startled them both. Feeling slightly embarrassed, the two men quickly pulled apart. Wilson looked up and saw Cuddy smiling gently at them.

"I'm glad to see you awake, Doctor Wilson," she said. "Nurse Angie just called me, so I came as quickly as I could."

"You didn't have to," Wilson protested. "I hope you weren't sleeping—"

"Calm down—I wasn't sleeping," Cuddy reassured him with a hint of smile. "There's been too much going on for the past few days."

"How long have I been out?" Wilson asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"About 11 days," Cuddy answered. "But—"

"Shit, 11 days?!" Wilson demanded, sitting straight up and trying to get out of the bed. The sudden rise in his heart rate caused the monitor to beep at them in an irritated manner. "I can't be here—I have patients that had appointments scheduled—"

House grasped his shoulders and looked deeply into Wilson's frightened brown eyes. "Calm down," he said, gently guiding Wilson back onto the bed. Comforted slightly by House's actions, Wilson began to breathe a little slower, and his heart rate returned to normal.

"Please don't worry, Doctor Wilson," Cuddy said soothingly. "I took care of contacting your patients and either rescheduling their appointments, or for those who couldn't wait, referring them to other doctors."

"Thank you," Wilson murmured, putting his head into his hand. "I'll…try to see them as soon as I can; hopefully by the end of this week—"

"Wilson," Cuddy firmly cut him off. "You've just had major surgery…take time off to recover—take as long as you need to." She carefully approached his side and took his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles. "I'm just glad that you're okay," she said with a smile.

After releasing his hand, Cuddy turned to House. "Your team is in your office; I saw them on my way up. Foreman said that Cameron was getting something out of your office, Wilson, but—"

Suddenly a scream tore through the halls, causing them all to jump. A few nurses ran off, past the room, in the direction of the scream, and Cuddy, House, and Wilson exchanged a bewildered glance.

"What the _hell_ was _that_ about?" House said. "Doesn't that person know that this is a _hospital_, for God's sake?"

At that moment, Doctor Stiles burst in; House noted that he had his glasses on correctly this time.

"D-Doctor Cuddy!" he panted. "I just came from down the hall—something's wrong with Doctor Cameron!"


	9. Over and Over

**A/N: A**rgh! Looks like I went too long without updating; I've lost a few reviewers it seems…damn.

Oh well…onwards!

Alright…life is deciding to chuck lots of things at me at once, so I can't promise when the next update will be ((that and all of my notes for this and following chapters have hidden…)). Until life calms down, and/or my papers show back up, this will be slow updates. I promise I haven't forgotten about you all, though!

Thanks to boywonderoncologist for my most recent review and nice words :)

--bkf

* * *

"**S**omething's wrong with Doctor Cameron?!" Cuddy repeated in alarm. "What…what happened?"

"Come and see for yourself," Derek grimaced. As Cuddy rose and exited, Derek entered and handed a pill bottle to Wilson. "Doctor Wilson, is this your pill bottle?" he asked.

Wilson nodded and popped open the bottle, examining the contents carefully. "…but these aren't my pills," he murmured. "I can't ever remember them looking like this…" Rather than his usual pills, he was holding small, purple gel capsules. _How could I have been so stupid not to notice?_ Wilson wondered.

Derek grimaced again. "That's what I was afraid of. Don't take them again; we need to run some tests on them." He took the pill bottle back and hurried for the door. "Doctor House, are you coming?!" he shot over his shoulder. "One of your employees is sick!"

"Would my being there do any good?" House retorted. Derek made an exasperated noise in reply and stormed out, rushing down the hallway.

Wilson sighed. "I hope that Cameron didn't get hurt on my account," he murmured. He gave a start of surprise when he felt a rough and callused hand close over his own and a thumb gently rubbing over his knuckles. He turned to look at House in bewilderment and saw the older man's ice-blue eyes staring back at him. He couldn't help but turn away with a slight blush at House's intense stare.

"Don't worry," House said to Wilson. "She'll be up and trying to fix everyone again in no time." Wilson chuckled a little, comforted by House's words.

* * *

**W**hen Cuddy reached the commotion, she saw a group of nurses and a few doctors standing around, looking terrified. In the middle of it all, Cameron lay on the floor, grimacing in pain, as Angie scanned a small device over Cameron's body. When the scanner was over her chest, it beeped and crackled wildly.

Angie looked up as Cuddy hastily approached. "Doctor Cuddy," she said. "I'm afraid that it's GUILT."

"How?!" Cuddy gasped, her eyes flashing in unease. "Is it Pempti again?"

"No," Angie shook her head. "Not this time. This particular strain is called Kyriaki."

Having heard Cameron's screams, Chase and Foreman had come hurrying down the hallway. Chase snagged the last part of the conversation and paled.

"What the hell does _that_ mean?!" he barked at Angie.

Angie's deep green eyes glittered grimly. "GUILT bodies are hiding within her lungs and are causing lacerations. Doctor Stiles, you'll need to operate immediately—"

"No!" Chase snapped. "I want to save her!"

"Doctor Chase, please be reasonable!" Angie protested. "You've never operated on GUILT before—"

"He's _not_ being unreasonable," House's voice cut in. "I wouldn't let him operate on me anytime soon."

"_House_," Cuddy spat sharply.

"He'sexhausted!" House shouted, waving in Derek's direction as he limped toward the group. "I say we let Doctor Stiles rest, and Chase should operate."

Cameron weakly lifted her head up when she heard House's voice. "…House," she murmured.

"Please try not to move, Doctor Cameron," Angie gently wheedled. "It'll just make the pain worse—"

"I…I want…Chase to oper…operate on me," Cameron said between pained coughs. Cuddy grimaced as the young immunologist pulled her hand away from her mouth, revealing the blood she had just coughed up. "Let…Doctor Stiles rest…"

Cuddy met Derek's eyes and nodded. "All right," she slowly relented. "Doctor Chase…prep for surgery. Doctor Stiles…go to the doctor's lounge and get some rest." Both Derek and Chase glanced at each other and nodded.

Derek followed Chase as the Australian hurried off to prep for the OR. "Hey, thanks," he called to Chase. "I really appreciate you stepping up for me—"

"Leave me alone," Chase spat over his shoulder. "I need to prep."

Derek fell back a little, confused by the venom in Chase's voice. "Jeez, what's eating _you_?" he mumbled under his breath.

Foreman shook his head as one of the nurses rushed Cameron to the OR. "This isn't right," he told Cuddy. "This is a conflict of interest for Chase—"

"I realize that, Doctor Foreman," Cuddy forcefully cut him off, "but Doctor Stiles is unfortunately too weak to operate at the moment."

"Doctor Stiles has been going nonstop to save Doctor Wilson for nearly two days now," Angie spoke up. "Forgive me for eavesdropping, but I thought you should know. And I will be by Doctor Chase's side, step by step, throughout the entire operation."

"We're a little short-staffed at the moment," Cuddy reminded Foreman. "And this is an emergency."

House quietly pulled out of the conversation and returned to Wilson's room.

"What's going on?" Wilson asked, moving over to make a little room as House carefully sat next to the younger man.

House sighed a bit. "It's another type of GUILT," he said. "This kind's called Kyriaki." He reached for the clipboard that Derek had left behind, which contained all of the information on GUILT.

"…Kyriaki?" Wilson said curiously as House handed him the clipboard. "…That means 'Sunday' in Greek, doesn't it?" House nodded, and Wilson dipped his eyes to the papers on the clipboard before him. After taking a moment to absorb the information, he grimaced. "So this thing…it hides in a victim's organ and slices it up from the inside out?" He shuddered as the image ran through his mind. "I can't even imagine who the hell would create something like this…or why."

Both men fell silent for a moment, and Wilson flipped through the other GUILT papers. He swallowed roughly as he read the heading of page 17. "Pempti…'Thursday'," he murmured, almost as an afterthought. "So…this is what I had?" House, seeming to be at a loss for words for once, only nodded. "…wait a minute," Wilson muttered. "Today's Sunday, isn't it?" He darted a glance at House, who nodded again. "And Cuddy said I was out for 11 days…" He quickly counted on his fingers. "That means…if you count the first day…" Needing to pause, he swallowed hard again. "…I was infected on a Thursday, and Cameron was infected today—on a Sunday. Pempti and Kyriaki…" He took a deep breath. "But…they got it all out of me," he said. This, as House could plainly tell, had been a question more than a statement, so Wilson was relieved beyond words to see House nod again.

Wilson put his index finger over the line of stitches again, but House placed a hand over his. "Don't play with them," the older man muttered gruffly. "You'll end up tearing them." Yet as House moved his hand over Wilson's chest, his own fingers traced the stitches. He placed his hand on Wilson's chest, and the diagnostician couldn't help but be slightly relieved to feel the strong heartbeat against his hand.

"I'm still alive, House," Wilson said softly. "I'm not going anywhere." His breath lightly tickled House's ear. After being unable to reply for a minute, House leaned over.

"I'm…glad you're okay," House muttered. "Who'd buy me lunches if you weren't?" Wilson chuckled a little at the words, for he knew that was as close that he would get to an "I was worried" from House.


	10. Kyriaki

**A/N: **This is a sorry excuse for a chapter, but I hated keeping everyone waiting for so long.

* * *

**I**n the OR, Chase took a deep breath and looked down at Cameron—the woman he loved—lying on the cold, metal operating table. "…okay, Cameron," he said after a moment. "You know how this works. I begin the anesthesia, and you'll be out within a few minutes."

Cameron weakly looked up at Chase with a wry smile. "Chase," she murmured. "It's…gonna be…fine. Don't…worry about me…" She coughed a little.

"Just hang on, Cameron," Chase pleaded. "E…everything will be alright."

Cameron smiled peacefully. "I…trust you…Chase," she said softly. Chase swallowed hard, unable to find his voice for a minute. "I…know you'll…take care of me," Cameron continued. Chase only nodded and began the anesthesia.

"…see you soon," he murmured as Cameron's eyes slowly closed.

Angie entered the OR and stood next to Chase as Cuddy and Foreman entered the observation room above. "Are you ready, Doctor Chase?" Angie softly inquired. Chase nodded and Angie handed him the antibiotic gel. "Alright, then," she said, "let's begin the operation, Doctor Chase."

Chase smeared some gel on Cameron's chest and took the scalpel that Angie wordlessly handed to him. He slowly made an incision and opened Cameron up. When he got a clear view of her lungs, he couldn't hold back a gasp of horror.

"Oh my _God_!" he said. "Angie, what the hell _is_ that?!"

"That, Doctor Chase, is the result of Kyriaki," Angie said with a grimace. Chase could only stare in disbelief at the scene before him: four long lacerations—each probably about five inches long—across Cameron's right lung, and three gigantic gashes that bled heavily.

"My God," Chase uttered as he grabbed the suturing tool and moved toward one of the large gashes.

"NO!" Angie suddenly barked, seizing his wrist. "Doctor, you can NOT be haphazard about this! First, you need to drain the blood!"

Chase shook his head in disgust as Angie handed him a drain and he carefully went about draining the wound. _Stupid mistake_, he growled to himself. _Be more careful, moron! This is Cameron's life on the line! _When all of the blood was cleared, he again went for the suturing tool, but Angie again seized his wrist.

"No," she said firmly. "Now, you probably wouldn't know this, but here—" she handed him the forceps "—_carefully _pinch one side of the wound and pull it over to form a thin slit. _Then_ you can go ahead and suture it." Chase nodded and carefully followed her instructions as Angie stood by watchfully.

"Good," Angie said, releasing a breath of relief when Chase had finished. "Now, repeat the process for the other two gashes, and suture the smaller lacerations." Chase gave her a quick nod and treated the other wounds. Before he could suture the last laceration, Angie stopped him again.

"Hold on," she cautioned. "Doctor Cameron's vitals are pretty low…let's bring them back up with some stabilizer before you suture the wound."

Chase frowned, confused. "But Angie, the open wound would cause the vitals to fall _more_, wouldn't it? Why not suture it up first?"

Angie shook her head. "That's right; I keep forgetting you don't know…when you suture that last laceration, the Kyriaki will appear. And…trust me…you'll want her vitals high before that happens."

"…alright," Chase said with a nod. "I'll trust you, Angie." Angie handed him the syringe, which he used to carefully inject three rounds of stabilizer and bring Cameron's vitals back up to 93.

"…okay," Angie said after checking the monitors. "Let's go, Doctor Chase."

Chase sutured up the final laceration, but within seconds another laceration formed right before his eyes. Up in the observation room, Cuddy gasped. "Oh my God!" she cried. "What's going on, Angie?!"

* * *

Hopefully more soon...my notes hid again...dammit.


End file.
